


El poder de la comida

by mercutiglo



Category: Wolf 359 (Radio)
Genre: Alana's got a date with a pretty lady, Cooking, Kepcobi is mentioned, Platonic Jacobi/Maxwell, jacobi and maxwell are roommates, jacobi can COOK, that mlm/wlw solidarity honestly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-05
Updated: 2018-07-05
Packaged: 2019-06-05 16:04:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,325
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15174344
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mercutiglo/pseuds/mercutiglo
Summary: Fun fact: Jacobi used to be a professional chef, and Maxwell only learned this recently. And just in time, too....





	El poder de la comida

The fact that supposedly neither Jacobi non Maxwell could cook was never really a problem, they were perfectly fine with pizza rolls and takeout all the time, passing it off as work expenses as much as possible by begging Kepler to give them and unlimited Goddard credit card - specifically Kepler’s own, corporate issued card, which he didn’t usually give to them as much as he found it missing all the time and eventually stopped trying to get it back unless it was an emergency. But one day during work, Maxwell did some digging and found out that her roommate was lying about one particular thing.

Jacobi came home later than Maxwell one day and when he opened the door to their apartment, he was perplexed by the bags he saw sitting on the kitchen counter and the items sticking out of them, not quite the usual pizza rolls. Maxwell poked out of the bathroom at the sound of Jacobi’s arrival, a fancy blue dress and earrings on, her hands around the curler in her hair, only foundation and concealer on her face at the time. “So, who did you pay off Jacobi?”

He set his bag down by the door and walked over towards the kitchen. “....What do you mean?”

She took the curler out and went back into the bathroom, affixing the curler on another section of hair, yelling from the bathroom. “Who did you pay off? Who was able to permanently erase that you used to be a professional French chef? Is that the reason we never get any assignments in France? Tell me the truth, Jacobi, I had to do a lot of reading in various languages today and my date tonight speaks spanish, surprisingly a language I haven’t used today, so while I’m angry at you, answer my questions or else.” She pointed just the curler out of the bathroom at him, making her threat clear, if aimed more towards his right hand than his heart or face.

He started unpacking the groceries onto the counter while they talked. “Okay fine, yes, I was a French chef. Yes, that’s the reason we can’t go to France. Did you know that some chefs are really really adamant about keeping the public record straight on who worked there when? Because let me tell you, Chef B-”

“Jacobi, that’s great.” Maxwell walked out of the bathroom, her hair done. “I really need your help though.”

Jacobi froze, looking at the ingredients he had been spreading out. “Maxwell I don’t like this.”

“Jacobi, please. I need help, my reservations at the restaurant ended up falling through and she’s REALLY classy and I needed to come up with an idea and so I told her my roommate was a chef and could cook whatever her favorite was and so can you make paella in an hour.” She clasped her hands in front of her, the best puppy dog eyes she could muster. “You’ll be my favorite person ever and I’ll help you whenever you need an extra assistant for a month.”

He looked down at the assortment, and back up at her. “And you’ll build me that cool robot I’ve been asking you to build me for two years.”

She sighed and rolled her eyes. “Kepler is gonna kill me for wasting time on it, but yes, fine.”

He waves her away to go finish her makeup, and searches for what they may possibly have in their kitchen to cook with. He was luckily able to find a single pot and a single pan so that he could get to work. At one point Maxwell’s special lady called her to ask some kind of questions, and Maxwell’s response was something along the lines of “Oh he’s just the absolute best and he’s making us this beautiful paella just like you asked and ALSO some tres leches” with a wink, which Jacobi just sighs and nods over, finally knowing at least what the extra ingredients were for.

And frankly, he had no idea who this lady was, or how she met Maxwell, or why Maxwell is meeting Spanish speaking women in the first place, but he figured those were all questions for tomorrow morning. Jacobi had already texted Kepler, asking if he could come over once “Maxwell’s Friend” arrived, to which he had gotten an affirmative, so it would be a matter of when Maxwell sent the infamous “you can come back now you know” text.

When the Mystery Woman did arrive, it had been preceded by a phone call, and five minutes of Maxwell double checking that everything in the apartment looked spotless and chic. It wasn’t as though they were still living in shitty college apartments, the apartment was spacious enough, exposed brick with stainless steel and black accents, and an open loft that both Jacobi and Maxwell tended to use when the ended up having “Guests” over. She had Jacobi check over every part of her outfit and of her makeup to ensure that it was perfect, having him double check the zipper on the back of her dress when the doorbell rang. “You’re not gonna forget about the tres leches?” He asked, grabbing his repacked bag so that he would intrude on their evening as little as possible.

“I’m not gonna forget about them. And the paella is already plated, it’s just in the oven to stay warm. I got this, it’s gonna go great.”

“Yes it is. Send the usual text when I can return.”

“Of course, I wouldn’t make you stay at Kepler’s any longer than necessary.” The sarcasm in the sentence was so thick that the only thing Jacobi could do was glare. “Also, how did you know how to make this so easily? I thought you were in France.”

He stood near the door. “The chefs from the two years in Spain weren’t as uptight when Goddard wanted their records cleaned.” He gestured for her to open the door while he put on his shoes and the woman who entered was stunning. She had on an emerald dress with gold detailing that made her hazel eyes sparkle. “Well, I’ll leave you two. See you tomorrow, Alana.”

 

\----

 

The next day, he received the text from Maxwell at about 11am, so she was lucky that it was a Saturday and they didn’t have to go in at all that weekend. Kepler had been called into the office for some emergency at about 8:30, so Jacobi had just been hanging out around Kepler’s apartment, rearranging things just for fun to mess with the Colonel.

When he returned to his own apartment, he saw Maxwell sitting on the countertop, eating one of the tres leches out of the dish with a spoon, wearing what looked to be an oversized sweater and her pajama shorts. “You forgot about them.”

Maxwell frowned and shrugged, trying to look apologetic. “On the upside, that means you can eat the other one? I was looking for toaster strudels when I found them.”

He went to the fridge to grab the other dessert, and grabbed a spoon. “So how’d it go?”

Her face immediately lit up. “Jacobi, oh my god. She cried. She literally cried because the food was so amazing. What the fuck is wrong with you how have you kept these talents hidden away from the rest of us for so long? Does Kepler know that you can cook this well? Jacobi I’ll spare you the full details for now but I’ve never had a night move along that quickly before, you have got to teach me how to cook, I’m begging you.” She continued to prattle on with the compliments and questions until he stood up, grabbed his bag, and walked toward his bedroom.

Once she heard his door click locked, she picked up her phone. “Kepler, do you want to know what fascinating thing I learned about our very own Mr Jacobi last night….”

**Author's Note:**

> In case you don't know, the title means "The Power of Food". Thanks for reading this fic I finally decided to write at 1am. This was inspired by one specific panel of the webcomic Gourmet Hound on Webtoon, highly suggest, it's literally just because one chef is named Jacobi, that's what inspired this. Please kudos and comment if you liked it, I thrive off validation (and it'll make me want to write more things as well). Follow me in all places @mercutiglo. This is has not been beta-ed as I just wrote it and it's 2am, so that's neat (lmk if there are any errors).


End file.
